


Double Trouble

by yamarik



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Confusion, Double Dating, It's a hot mess basically, Jealousy, Munakata is just a bit evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamarik/pseuds/yamarik
Summary: Yata isn't quite sure how he ended up on a date with the blue king. But when it turns out to be a double date with Fushimi/Mikoto, he knows he's really in trouble.





	Double Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up, this is in a canon-divergent au where Munakata killed the colorless king instead of Mikoto, and they both miraculously managed to keep their swords intact as everything continued on pretty much the same as canon, minus Anna becoming the red king.

Sometimes, in certain moments, time seems to stand still. There are two ways this happens: when a moment feels like absolute perfection, like nothing could make life better, or when a moment goes horribly wrong in one chaotic instant where things could not possibly be worse. The former tends to happen in romantic situations, like when a couple stands there kissing unabashedly in the middle of a public location; they know other people are there, but time feels like it is standing still for them. The latter doesn’t have any particular emotional atmosphere, but it does have emotional results such as dismay, horror, appall, and shock. It happens in situations like when you hold a party for small children and a) one of them gets sick, b) another hurts themself, c) a dog overturns the table with all the food while chasing a cat, and d) someone’s drunk grandmother walks into the backyard pool in her underwear, all happening at just about the exact same time so now you are stuck with screaming kids, lots of clean-up, damage control, and pet wrangling to do and you don’t even know which to start with. 

At first glance, the current moment might appear to be the former. 

The scene is this: an American-style diner, at approximately 12:47 in the afternoon. The wait staff is busy taking orders, serving them, asking customers how their meal is, and, in one unfortunate case, maintaining a very forced smile as one of _those_ customers demands to speak to the manager. Most of the patrons are happily engaging in conversation or enjoying their meals or dipping their fries in their milkshakes because they heard that’s a thing. But none of that is particularly important to why this moment is frozen. What _is_ important is a corner booth near the bathrooms. 

The table has four occupants. One one side, you have Suoh Mikoto, leaning up against the window with the bored look that he patented. Next to him is Fushimi Saruhiko, who, up until a few seconds ago at least, had been maintaining his own patented look of disgust. And across the table is the scene that might make one misunderstand just what kind of frozen moment this is: Munakata Reisi and Yata Misaki, their faces pressed together as their lips lock. 

But if you think this is a blissful sort of stopped time, you need to think again. Look more closely, and you’ll realize that Suoh’s hand on the table in front of him is clenched so tightly he has white knuckles. You’ll notice that, unlike a few seconds ago when Fushimi was being his usual aggravated and aggravating self, he is on his feet, his hands flat on the table as his jaw hangs agape with surprise, and there is a dangerous glint to his eyes that promises that if you wait a bit longer he’ll put his knives to use. A closer look at Yata will show that while his hands are gripping Munakata’s lapels, this is because he has been pushed backwards to such an angle that to let go means succumbing to gravity. Not only that, but his eyes are wide open and confused, and more than a little alarmed. 

A frozen moment when all seems right in the world? Don’t delude yourself. This is a frozen moment where everything is going to hell in a handbasket, and it is proving to be quite the bumpy ride. 

* * *

Yata knew his plan was stupid. He knew that he wasn’t going to get any thanks, but even so, he couldn’t help himself. It was just the kind of guy he was, okay? When he cared, he cared, and part of caring was worrying about the people you cared about. He just wanted the best for those he considered important, alright? 

Though he had to admit, what he was doing now was definitely an all-time low. This was more embarrassing than that time in Mihashira Tower when he fell off his skateboard because of a freaking _advertisement_ , more traumatic than when he’d gotten that l-l-l-love letter from Oogai Aya, more pathetic than when he and Saru had gotten their asses handed to them by a goddamn tween, and more humiliating even than when he’d had to carry around that silver girl’s panties. Enacting his plan would be miserable, but he had to do it. 

It still didn’t change the fact that he _really_ didn’t want to talk to the blue king. 

Or former blue king, he supposed he should say. 

Since the slates had fallen, HOMRA and SCEPTER 4 had been working together a lot, and somewhere along the way Mikoto had gotten Kusanagi to negotiate an agreement where Anna could see the strain horse Basashi/Shiroan Nikomi Tofu/Arion, because she loved the horse even if the rest of them thought the darn thing was a bloody nuisance. So, once a week, Munakata would come to the bar riding on that horse and looking smug, and then he would dismount so that Anna could be lifted into the saddle and Fujishima would take the reins and then Anna would get to go for a horseback ride under the watchful eyes of all the lower-ranking members of HOMRA. Usually Munakata would then go inside and have a drink, sometimes with Mikoto and sometimes by himself. But today, Yata came out with the others to see Anna off, planning to stop Munakata before he went inside. 

Of course it didn’t end up working out that way. 

Yata was still waving to Anna and the others even though not one of them was facing him when he felt eyes on him. He flinched, slowly turning to meet the gaze of the blue king. 

“Was there something you wanted from me, Garasu-kun?” Munakata asked with that smug-ass twinkle in his eye. Yata ground his teeth. That joke again. One time had been bad enough, dammit. 

“Actually, yeah,” Yata said, carefully keeping his voice calm. Ugh, this was so unpleasant. This guy gave him the creeps. Not to mention he’d sent Saru on a suicide mission before. “It’s about Saru.” 

“Not surprising. I understand that even now you prefer to maintain some distance between yourself and the general populace of my clan, interacting only with Fushimi when matters force you to cooperate with us.” 

“Uh…” Yata said, off-balanced by the complex sentence. “Er, sure. Anyway. I, uh, well, there’s kinda a lot I wanted to ask about? And just, well, I-I don’t want to stop you from,” he gestured to the bar behind them, “y’know, so uh, could we meet up some time to talk about him?” 

Munakata’s eyebrows, which had already been quirked up in his constant expression of bemusement, rose even further, disappearing beneath the swoop of hair that covered most of the blue king’s forehead. 

“Interesting,” he said, a smirk that filled Yata with a strange sense of dread appearing on his face. “Very well. It’s a date.” 

Yata felt the color draining from his face. Did that guy just say d-d-d-d-date? 

“The fuck do you mean, d-d- that?!” 

“Oya, you wish for a romantic date?” Munakata asked, his grin growing smugger still as he stepped toward Yata. Yata stepped back, and instantly chastised himself for doing so. He was no coward, to be intimidated by the blue king! 

“Like hell I do!” he shot back, stepping forward again and regretting it when he found himself with only inches of space between him and the king. He held his ground, though, or at least, he held it until Munakata threw off his line of thought again. 

“So you do not think I am handsome?” Munakata asked, looming over Yata. Confused, Yata found himself reeling backwards, taking not one but three steps away from Munakata. Munakata followed as he stammered out his answer. 

“Th-that’s not the point,” he said hoarsely, because even he had to admit that Munakata was one good-looking bastard. 

“So you _do_ find me attractive?” Munakata pressed, enjoyment shining in his eyes. 

“I, uh-” Yata said, continuing to back away. 

“If you’re worried about scheduling, I can always work something out, I assure you,” Munakata continued. 

“B-but-” Yata squeaked, his back hitting one of the double doors to Kusanagi’s bar. 

“Or are you perhaps nervous? I have heard from Fushimi-kun that you are a virgin, so I understand if-” 

“Saru can shut the fuck up!” Yata exploded. “And I’m not nervous, I’m not afraid of anything!” 

“Excellent. Then how’s lunch on Friday sound?” Munakata asked. 

“Uh-” 

“Do you have plans?” Munakata leaned in, and Yata found himself once again shrinking back. 

“N-no?” Shit. Why was that coming out like a question? 

“Great. Then it’s settled. I’ll come pick you up here at Homra at 11:30,” Muanakata said, straightening up and finally allowing Yata some breathing room. 

“W-wha-?” Yata asked, not really sure what was happening. In fact, he hadn’t been sure since about a minute ago already. 

“See you then, Garasu-kun,” Munakata said, and then he reached past Yata to pull open the door Yata wasn’t backed up against and enter the bar, leaving Yata to slide to the ground in absolute confusion. What the _fuck_ had just happened? 

Munakata, meanwhile, was in a good mood after the events outside the bar. He had been told many times that his habit of teasing people was a bad one, or that he had a rotten personality, but that didn’t stop him from indulging himself now and then. Or frequently. Certain people had better reactions than others. For instance, he enjoyed the way Awashima tended to take things to heart and grow despondent, and the way Fushimi tended to get irritable and click his tongue a few times before admonishing him, and most of all he enjoyed the back-and-forth banter between himself and Suoh Mikoto. As for Yatagarasu, he hadn’t had much opportunity to interact with the young man yet. The youth had always avoided him, and aside from the instance with the “prince”, he hadn’t been able to test out just why it was Fushimi could never fully let go of his former partner. But after seeing the boy’s reactions… he could understand well now how one might find eliciting responses from him to be addicting. No wonder Fushimi tended to lose control whenever Yata was around. 

He had no intention of seriously dating Yata. They both had other interests, after all. But he thought that perhaps he might get a good deal of entertainment from the arrangement he had just made. 

* * *

Wednesday before his unexpected date had Yata sitting miserably at Kusanagi’s bar, still trying to figure out how exactly it had come to this. He’d been there for over an hour, his head down on the bar with his hands folded behind his neck as he tried to think. Every now and then he would let out a groan, often accompanied by a frustrated bouncing of his leg and/or rubbing of the back of his head. His hair was an absolute mess at this point, and his beanie was now clenched in his hands after his efforts had caused its removal. 

Kusanagi had long since accepted that Yata wasn’t going to explain what was going on. He just went about cleaning the bar as always, waiting for Yata to either come to a conclusion on his own, decide to leave, or finally just spill his guts about whatever trivial problem he’d gotten caught up on. Yata always had to do one of those things sooner or later. Then again, an hour was a really long time for him to be thinking over a problem like this. Maybe it was time for Kusanagi to intervene. 

Mikoto entered the bar, heading for the couch. Right then, Yata let out another frustrated groan and Mikoto paused, turning to look at the vanguard in bewilderment. 

“Somethin’ on yer mind, kid?” Mikoto asked. 

Yata sat up so abruptly he almost fell off his bar stool. He teetered for a moment before managing to right himself, then carefully turned to face Mikoto, a flush on his cheeks and his eyes shining in hope. 

“Mi-Mi-Mi-Mikoto-san!” he all but sobbed. Oh dear. Kusanagi sighed and paused in his cleaning to get out some glasses and reach for a bottle. He had a feeling there was about to be a need for drinks all around. Mikoto, also recognizing that this could be a tiresome situation, continued his journey to the couch and plopped down, spreading an arm over the back edge as he fumbled for a cigarette. 

“Mikoto-san, help, I don’t know what to do!” Yata wheedled, his voice taking on a whiny tone that would have grated on everyone’s nerves had it not been a distinct sign of how upset Yata must be. He almost always tried to look tough in front of Mikoto, so for him to show any weakness or uncoolness meant he was really and truly desperate. He rushed from his bar stool to Mikoto, falling to his knees on the couch next to Mikoto and looking up at the king imploringly. 

“Hm,” Mikoto grunted, lighting his cigarette with his aura and waiting for more information. He got it immediately. 

“I don’t really know how it happened, it was just sort of one thing led to another, and now I have a date with the blue king on Friday and what the hell am I supposed to do about it, it wasn’t supposed to be this way!” Yata babbled, shifting so he was sitting properly, his hands moving up to squeeze the sides of his head. 

“Ah, really?” Mikoto said indifferently, but his cigarette went up in flames and disappeared, revealing his true emotions. 

“Hey, Yatachan, would you mind going out and getting me some bean paste?” Kusanagi hastily asked, worried that Yata might be a little too insensitive and dig his own grave. “I think Seri-chan might be coming by later, and she’s just about finished off my last container.” 

“Huh?” Yata asked, looking blankly over at Kusanagi as if he’d forgotten the bartender’s existence. “Oh. S-sure. Um…” he glanced hesitantly at Mikoto, who flapped a hand in dismissal, and then got to his feet. “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he promised as he grabbed his skateboard from by the door and left. 

“Was that for real?” Mikoto asked Kusanagi as he fished for another cigarette. 

“No,” Kusanagi admitted miserably. “I just bought two new tubs yesterday.” He sighed. “Oh well, it’s not like she won’t go through them quickly enough. But I thought you seemed less than pleased with the news that he’d be going on a date with Munakata…” 

The entire cigarette box, barely even out of Mikoto’s pocket, also went up in flames, and Mikoto got to his feet abruptly. 

“I’ll be back,” he grumbled. “I’ve gotta make a couple quick phone calls…” 

* * *

As always, Fushimi was less than thrilled when his PDA began trilling at him, indicating that someone was calling him. Hadn’t anyone heard of a little thing called texting? A novel idea that’s way more convenient, doesn’t involve actual conversation, and is easier to ignore? Been around more than 20 years? Any of this ringing a bell, or better yet, a single short tone? God damn it. 

He was even less thrilled when he actually answered the phone, and found it was _not_ one of his coworkers or underground contacts on the other end of the line, trying to report something or pass on some new juicy bit of information. No, it was Suoh Fucking Mikoto, one of the top five people he hated more than anyone else he’d ever met (the only reason he wasn’t a shoo-in for the top slot on that list was because Fushimi had some really shitty family members. Like his dad. And his mom. And his dad because that man was shitty enough to deserve multiple mentions. And his annoying bitchy second cousin Oogai Aya. And did he mention his dad?). 

“Fushimi,” he said as he picked up the phone. 

“Need a favor from ya,” replied Mikoto’s gravelly voice, and Fushimi almost flung the PDA as far from himself as he could. Maybe if he hurled it through the window, it would somehow make it across the courtyard and to the street and would land on a passing vehicle and he wouldn’t have to deal with this asshole. Okay, maybe Fushimi was a little biased against Mikoto given that Mikoto had ruined everything for him, but even before he’d noticed that he was slowly losing what he cared most about, he had already started to take issue with Mikoto’s personality. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue. 

“Tsk. Like I’m doing any favors for _you_. I don’t like you, and would’ve been more than happy if my king hadn’t taken on the burden of finishing off the colorless king for you,” he said in a low voice, glancing around to make sure none of his colleagues overheard him. 

“Mm, I get that, but are ya really okay if Munakata takes Yata-chan on a date?” Mikoto rumbled after a long moment. 

“ _WHAT?!?_ ” Fushimi’s voice came out in an unmanly yelp, far too loud and far too high, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room and probably managing to be heard by everyone in the SCEPTER 4 headquarters. Fuck. He cleared his throat, bringing a fist to his mouth and feigning a cough to try and preserve some bit of dignity. Luckily, everyone else took the hint and began hastily immersing themselves in random conversations, agreeing that the sky sure was a very sky blue shade of sky blue today, wasn’t it. Assured that no one was eavesdropping, Fushimi calmly got to his feet and left the room before continuing. Luckily, Mikoto wasn’t one to mind waiting. 

“What the hell are you talking about,” Fushimi hissed flatly as soon as he was safely out of the room. He strode hastily through the building, heading for a nearby storage closet. He would have gone to his dorm room, but the dorms were far enough away that by the time he got there this conversation would surely be over. 

“‘Parently those two are going on a date on Friday. I got Munakata to agree to make it a double, but I need someone tah come ‘long. ‘N ‘less I’m mistaken, you oughta have a problem with this ‘s well,” Mikoto explained as Fushimi located the closet he wanted, yanked the door open, and then sealed himself inside. 

Fushimi ought to have a problem with Munakata and Misaki dating? Of course he had a goddamn problem with it! First of all, those two weren’t the least bit suited to each other. Munakata was calculating and manipulative, and Misaki was… Misaki was _his_ danggit! And there was no way in hell Munakata didn’t know that. So how dare he?!? 

“... I see your point,” he reluctantly admitted. 

“‘S that a yes?” Mikoto asked. 

“Fine,” Fushimi half-grumbled, half-sighed. “It’s a yes. I’ll be your…” he paused, trying not to choke on the word that was so distasteful in this situation before finally spitting it out, “date.” 

“See ya Friday then,” Mikoto said and hung up. 

As Fushimi slid down the door of the empty storage closet with a groan, he had one miserable thought. 

_Fuck my life._

* * *

By the time Friday rolled around, Yata had reached full-on panic mode. He was going on a date. Him. On a date. With the blue king. A date with the blue king. Him and the blue king on a date. 

WHY THE HELL WAS HE GOING ON A DATE WITH THE FREAKING GODDAMN BLUE KING?!? 

It was almost 11, and there he was, waiting at Homra and trying not to shake. He had pre-date jitters so bad… 

If Saru were here, he’d probably laugh at him for being so wimpy. _It’s just a date, virgin_ , he’d probably say. Yeah, yeah, he knew he was being pathetic, freaking out like this. Didn’t stop him from doing it though. It was just a sort of ingrained reaction. It wasn’t something he could help. 

What it _was_ , however, was something that was really starting to get on the nerves of the other remnant clansmen hanging around the bar. 

“Okay, will you seriously cut it out already?” Dewa said sharply as the lot of them were all sitting around, making plans and reminiscing and talking about their latest interactions with… the… blues… whose king Yata was about to go on a date with, FUCK. 

“Ugh, no kidding!” Chitose agreed as Yata groaned again. They’d been putting up with his skittishness and moaning and groaning and sighing and pitiful whining all morning and everyone was getting sick of it. 

“Wow, I thought for sure San-chan would be the first to snap,” Akagi laughed, slapping Bandou on the back, “but I guess our senpais beat ya, eh?” 

“Okay but seriously, is he okay over there?” Fujishima asked, shooting Yata a concerned glance that Yata completely missed. He hadn’t even figured out that Dewa and Chitose were griping at him. 

“Yata-san…” Kamamoto said worriedly. 

“Maybe he has a stomachache,” Eric mumbled quietly to the wall. 

“Stomachache or not, it’s freaking annoying!” Dewa snapped. “Yata-chan, will you shut the fuck up already?!” 

“Hey, go easy on him, he’s got a date in half an hour,” Kusanagi chided, trying to avoid the worst case scenario and having a fight break out inside his precious bar. With these idiots, they’d never pay caution to the aged wooden counter, and some things just can’t be replaced. 

Yata moaned again, and the sound stood out starkly against the sudden silence in the bar. 

“Okay, I think my mind blanked out for a second there, because I coulda sworn he said Yata-san has a date,” Akagi said, breaking the silence. “There’s just no way, right? I mean, that’s as unbelievable as Kamamoto turning skinny in the summer!” 

“This again?” Kamamoto sighed. 

“Except Kamamoto really does turn skinny in the summer,” Chitose said drily. “But you’re right, this is a surprise. I mean, sure he and Fushimi have a ton of chemistry and always have, but I guess I figured that when they did finally get together they’d fuck first and think about it later, y’know?” 

“Wait a second guys, Fushimi’s not…” Kusanagi said, realizing the idiots he looked after had misunderstood. 

“That’s a rather crude way of putting it, but you’re right,” Bandou mused, finally speaking up. “And it’s not like we wouldn’t know if that happened, since you can bet that Yata-san would be way too happy the next day for us not to notice. Either way, I think we can all agree that this can’t go on.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Dewa spat. He shot a glare at Yata as the latter whimpered again. 

“No, not that way,” Bandou said, then added, “well, I guess that way too, but I mean, look at him. Does he look like someone who’s going out on a date? Maybe he doesn’t need to impress Fushimi since that guy is obviously attracted already, but part of dressing up for a date is letting your partner know that they are special enough to merit dressing up for, am I right?” 

Everyone took a moment to contemplate Yata’s appearance. He had on his usual baggy clothes, with olive shorts that hung low on his hips and came down to below his knees, a red t-shirt with sleeves that went to his elbows, and a black hoodie tied around his waist. His socks were long, but they were two different colors and one was bunched up around his ankle since the elastic in the leg had died. His shoes were an old pair that was falling apart. On his head, he was wearing an old and worn beanie that looked like it had been around almost as long as Yata had been alive, and had loose threads and a few holes to prove it. As one, they all nodded. Yata was not ready for any kind of date, regardless of who it was with. 

“While you have a point, I have to ask: since when have you had enough dates to actually know this shit?” Fujishima queried, deadpan. 

“Ya know what? I’m just gonna blame Eric for that one,” Bandou said. “Shame on you Eric, for teaching our sweet Fujishima to be a sass-mouth like you.” 

“I didn’t teach him that, he was like that all along,” Eric replied. “And he’s right, you are perpetually single.” 

“Agh, whatever!” Bandou groaned. 

“Great, now we’ve got two of them,” Chitose said, rolling his eyes. 

“G-guys, shouldn’t we help Yata-san…?” Kamamoto asked. 

“You know what, Kamamoto’s right,” Bandou said. “This is HOMRA, and HOMRA is all about the bonds between clansmen. Our king may no longer have his sanctum, but that doesn’t mean we’re no longer a clan! We’ve gotta help Yata-san, and we’ve gotta make sure that he looks spectacular for this date!” 

A cheer rose up among the others at Bandou’s speech. They all surged to their feet. 

Yata, brought out of his panic by the sound of cheering, had just enough time to ask, “Huh?” in regards to what had caused the cheer before several hands were grabbing him and hauling him out of his seat and out of the bar. “Wh-wha-what?” he managed to ask. 

“Don’t worry Yata-san!” Akagi said cheerfully, “we’re gonna make sure you look spectacular for your date!” 

Yata was carried protesting out of the bar, leaving Kusanagi behind. 

“Ah hell,” Kusanagi sighed. Those boys sure got carried away sometimes. Well, he had more important things to worry about, like making sure Anna didn’t spend all day in front of that old projector watching Tatara’s old movies. 

* * *

As soon as Mikoto had arrived to pick him up, Fushimi had made sure to make it clear that even if he didn’t have his saber, he still had all his knives and had every intention of putting them to good use if Mikoto touched him at all. Yes, they were on a date, but that did NOT make them a couple. No need to be all touchy-feely and gross. 

And now the two of them were waiting outside some American-style diner. It wasn’t Fushimi’s favorite type of food, being entirely too greasy, but at least it was easy enough to avoid vegetables and fish and other things he couldn’t eat. Plus they had milkshakes. 

Fushimi and Mikoto didn’t attempt any conversation as they waited, neither of them being particularly talkative even at the best of times. Sure, they could have nice long chats with the right people, but they definitely weren’t each other’s right people. Having to wait at all was annoying, having to wait with someone he despised was nauseating, and having to wait with someone he despised for a double date where Misaki was part of the other couple was downright unbearable. He was tempted to just go inside and order a milkshake already, just to make this worth his trouble. 

“Oya, you’re already here,” Munakata’s voice said, as if he and Misaki weren’t 20 minutes late. Of course they were already there. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

Fushimi and Mikoto turned to face the new arrivals, and Fushimi had to clench his jaw to keep it from dropping. Misaki looked _good_. He had on a polo shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal a rope necklace underneath. He had on slacks as well, and boater shoes. He was missing his signature beanie, and someone had styled his hair. It was a look that Fushimi both loved and hated, since it was very nice but also not at all Misaki. If anything, he suspected that Misaki had gotten clothing advice from those idiots back at Homra. He clicked his tongue. Misaki would have looked better if he’d chosen his outfit himself. And he should have brought a jacket too. Warm-blooded or not, the weather was still pretty chilly. 

Fushimi was so hung up on Misaki’s outfit he almost missed the shell-shocked look on Misaki’s face. 

Fushimi took another quick glance at the group. Mikoto was in his usual black jeans, white t-shirt, black jacket, and black boots. No surprises there. Munakata had on a sweater-vest and slacks, and dress shoes. As for Fushimi himself, he had gone with a collared shirt under a t-shirt and skinny jeans, with a zip-up hoodie for outdoors and dark blue high-tops. All in all, they weren’t a bad looking bunch, aside from the obvious outlier of Mikoto. 

They went inside, and were seated at a back corner booth. Munakata, being Munakata, ordered for them all, getting four burgers, lots of fries, and milkshakes all around. He even knew what flavors of milkshake to get everyone, which was mildly impressive given that the diner boasted 16 different flavors. They waited in awkward silence as the waitress took the order to the kitchen. 

It was odd. Fushimi liked silence. He really did. So why was it that the silence that followed their order made him want to stab something? 

And yet when Munakata, because of course it would be him, broke the silence, Fushimi just felt even more annoyed. 

“I must say, Yata-kun, you certainly look nice today,” Munakata said. “It’s quite flattering to see that my date has put such effort into his appearance.” 

“H-huh?” Misaki replied, looking alarmed. “Oh. Uh, that was, I mean, uhh… b-boys,” he mumbled, his voice losing strength as he spoke so that the last fumbled word was little more than a whisper. He shrank in on himself too, avoiding all eye contact. 

“Boys?” Munakata asked, quirking an eyebrow. Was it in confusion to such a vague statement, or amusement? Or maybe it was both. Actually, yeah, knowing Munakata, it was probably both. Even things he didn’t like still tended to amuse him. 

“I think he means that our boys insisted he look spiffy,” Mikoto rumbled from beside Fushimi. It startled him, and he found himself reflexively reaching for the tableware sitting rolled up in napkins in the center of the table. His knives were probably sharper, not to mention better quality, but he wasn’t about to pass up four extra weapons if things came to a fight here. 

“I see,” Munakata said, and then, noticing Fushimi’s action, added, “Ah yes, I forgot about the distribution of utensils. You’re right Fushimi, we really ought to do that.” 

Fushimi clicked his tongue and grabbed only one of the rolled up fork-and-knife sets rather than all four. He tore at the paper holding the tableware in a tidy bundle, fuming, as the others followed suit and claimed a set of utensils. 

“I must admit,” Munakata said, arranging his utensils and placing the napkin in his lap, “I am not particularly aware of the etiquette for double dates. This will be my first one ever. Is anyone here aware of what is and isn’t permissible?” 

“Never been on a double either,” Mikoto grunted. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue rather than answer. Munakata was well aware of the fact that Fushimi had never been on a date before, let alone a double date. 

“No?” Munakata asked. “Yata-kun, how about you?” 

“Uhh…” Misaki said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than trapped between Munakata and the wall. “I-I guess you… uh… I dunno, maybe… talk a bit?” 

Fushimi couldn’t hold back the acidic retort to that. 

“Says the guy who can’t seem to string together a complete sentence,” he muttered. 

“Sh-shut up, Saru! I can too! String together… a complete… sen… tence,” Misaki said, beginning in his usual irate shout before remembering the situation and slowly falling back to his mumbles. Fushimi clicked his tongue. Misaki shouting was much more interesting. 

“Yeah, very convincing,” he muttered. 

“We already are talking,” Munakata mused. “What else would one usually do?” 

Fushimi clicked his tongue and reached for his PDA, planning to look this up and settle the whole “double date etiquette” conversation once and for all. This was so irritating. Such a waste of time. He could have been working right then, or maybe making some adjustments to the upgrade to Misaki’s watch/PDA he’d been putting together as a surprise. 

“W-well, why not just do like, uh, normal date things?” Misaki asked, his voice shaking. “L-like, I dunno, uh…” 

“Like kissing?” Mikoto said, smirking. Fushimi clicked his tongue and glared side-eye at Mikoto. The hell was he playing at? 

“K-k-k-k-k-k-” Misaki stuttered, his face going a dangerous shade of red and his eyes widening to the size of saucers. 

“What an excellent idea, Suoh,” Munakata said, and then, before anyone could react, he leaned over, wrapped Misaki in an embrace, and met Misaki’s lips with his own. 

* * *

Yata was pretty sure he could count this day as one of the worst days of his life. First the guys had dragged him off to “get all gussied up” whatever that meant. Apparently it meant all of them standing around and arguing about what counted as appropriate “date clothing”. Bandou was trying to convince the others that nothing short of a suit was acceptable but Chitose pointed out that the only suit they could get at such short notice was a birthday suit, and while it might be appealing it wasn’t publicly decent and might seem a little over-eager. Dewa wanted to try and get Yata to wear his hat but everyone else insisted that when Yata wore the hat he looked like a douche. Eric was trying to convince everyone that Yata would look cooler with pierced ears, which somehow got everyone else on the idea of trying to replicate Totsuka’s style. When that looked… awkward, they just started throwing clothes at him until they all managed to agree on something. 

He’d been late meeting the blue king, though Munakata hadn’t seemed to mind all that much. They’d taken a taxi to some diner, and Yata had been thinking that maybe he could handle this whole “date” thing after all when he noticed Mikoto and Saru standing outside the diner. His heart had sunk, and only continued to sink when they all ended up at the same table, and people started talking about a double date. A double date that everyone seemed to know about except him. 

Once they were all seated, he’d kinda hoped that if he made himself as small as possible, everyone would forget he was there. No such luck. First his date kept talking to him, then Saru was talking to him too, and why was Saru even there, dammit? What cruel twist of fate had set him on a double date where the guy he was hopelessly gone for was part of the other couple? 

And now the blue king was kissing him. 

Back in middle school, girls would go on and on about first kisses. They would talk about theirs if they’d had them, or try and plan them out if they hadn’t. General consensus seemed to be that the perfect first kiss would happen on a breezy spring day when, on their way to their high school entrance ceremony, they would meet the perfect guy on a street lined with cherry trees, and he never really found out what came next because that was usually about the point where the girls would dissolve into squeals. And after hearing the way the girls would talk about it, Yata had ended up trying to imagine what his own would be like. 

At first it had been difficult to think about, since he was nervous around girls so how would he ever kiss one? But then one day the girls had been at it again, and he’d looked over at Saru to say something about it when all of a sudden it occurred to him to wonder what kissing Saru would be like. And while the idea of kissing a girl was almost impossible for him to conceptualize, it was all too easy to imagine kissing Saru. He’d do something nice for Saru and his friend would sweep him off his feet and kiss him in return, or maybe sometime he’d invite Saru over and once they were in his room he’d make his move, or maybe… 

Yata had imagined plenty of different scenarios for it, but never had he thought it might be anyone but Saru, and the current reality was shattering all his youthful fantasies. 

At first, Yata tried to push the blue king away, but then he realized that to do so would be to fall flat on his back. So he reluctantly held on, uncertain what else he could do. At this point, it was already inevitable that he would die from the shame of this event, so what did it matter if it lasted a bit longer? 

“Oi, Munakata,” Mikoto’s angry voice said from across the table, and Yata almost cried with relief that his king was coming to his rescue. “Doncha think yer takin’ it a bit too far?” 

“But you’re the one who suggested it,” Munakata reproached as he pulled away from Yata and straightened. Finally free, Yata wasted no time in standing up on the seat and climbing over Munakata, stammering out some excuse or other that at least included the word “bathroom”, which was the important part. He fled to the restroom, almost going through the wrong door in his hurry before making it into the men’s room and sequestering himself in one of the stalls. 

Once safely hidden, the tears that had been threatening him began to trickle out of his eyes. He wasn’t sure life could get much more miserable than he was right then. He’d just been kissed by someone he disliked, and in front of the guy he’d been in love with since middle school. If he’d ever had a chance with Saru, it was certainly squashed now. 

Aw, who was he kidding? It was a double date, right? Which meant that Saru and Mikoto were dating, and of course Saru would like someone cool and strong like Mikoto rather than someone who couldn’t even handle a single date like him. He didn’t like it, but he supposed he’d have to respectfully bow out and- 

Someone knocked on the stall door, startling Yata out of his misery. His breath hitched, and he tried to steady it so he wouldn’t be caught crying by some random stranger. He opened his mouth, ready to call out “occupied”, but the person knocking spoke up first. 

“Misaki? You in there?” 

Saru. 

Yata choked on his own spit in surprise and began coughing. As his lungs tried to force themselves clear, he fumbled for the latch on the stall door, figuring that if he couldn’t answer verbally then he ought to at least show Saru it really was him and that he wasn’t trying to talk to the wrong person. It was only as he barked out one last cough and swung the door open that he realized that maybe he didn’t really want to let Saru see him when his eyes were red from crying and he still had tears on his face. He quickly reached up to swipe at his cheeks with the back of his hand, trying to pretend he was just rubbing his nose. 

He flinched at the clicking of Saru’s tongue. They’d been getting along since the slates had been destroyed, but apparently he’d gone and ruined that. How ironic, that this had all started with him trying to look out for Saru… 

“Seriously gonna kill him for this,” Saru muttered, and Yata looked up, startled. 

“Huh?” he asked. 

“C’mon,” Saru said. “Enough of this double date bullshit, we’re leaving. I don’t know if this is one of the captain’s jokes or something, but kissing you was taking it too far.” 

Saru grabbed his wrist and tugged, leading the way towards the bathroom door. 

“What, Saru-!” Yata protested, but in all honesty, he didn’t mind too much. Sure, Saru was being a bit aggressive and all, but he would gladly go wherever Saru took him. Plus, y’know, if Yata started getting mad at people for being too aggressive, well, wasn’t that that thing with a kettle and a pan or something? 

Fushimi did stop at the table to quick slap down some money for the food that had been ordered for them, and Yata started to fumble for his wallet to do the same but was dragged away before he could get it out. The world took on a dreamlike state for him, as everything seemed to move past faster than he could really notice it. But his surroundings hardly mattered because _Saru’s hand was on his wrist_. 

Or it was until they stopped walking suddenly and Saru let go. The unexpected absence of that point of warmth on his forearm made Yata realize just how cold it was, and he felt goosebumps begin to rise on his arms. 

“Are you okay?” Saru asked. 

“No,” Yata answered honestly, because his brain was too busy trying to catch up to manage anything but the unabridged truth. He looked at the ground so he wouldn’t have to look at his friend- his _crush_ \- and see what expression he was wearing. He didn’t want to see any pity on Saru’s face. “I’m really confused, I just had my first kiss and it was with someone I don’t even like, and right in front of you even, and now it’s kinda cold, and-” 

Saru clicked his tongue, interrupting Yata before he could spill any more than he already had. Not that he hadn’t already blabbed all the important stuff, but hey, take what victories you can, right? 

“If you don’t even like him, then why the hell were you on a date with him?” Saru muttered with more hostility than Yata had heard from him in a while. He finally looked up, blinking a lot as if that would keep the hurt away. It didn’t. Figures. 

“Like I know,” Yata grumbled petulantly. “I just asked him if we could meet to talk about something. He’s the one who went and turned it into a date, and then made it a double date even. I just wanted-” Yata cut himself off abruptly, cursing himself for almost confessing what he’d been up to. 

“Mikoto’s the one who made it into a double date,” Saru said blandly. “But you really should have known better than to talk to the captain about anything. He’ll always find some way to turn it against you and make you regret it.” 

“But it was important!” Yata sputtered. “And he was the only person I could ask, aside from that lieutenant of yours, and if you think I was gonna talk to her, you’re as stupid as I am!” 

“You could have talked to me,” Saru muttered, almost too quiet for Yata to hear. 

“N-n-no I couldn’t!” Yata replied, his voice cracking awkwardly. Smooth. Real smooth. Like the upper surface of his skateboard. 

Saru clicked his tongue, and Yata only just had time to notice the hurt in Saru’s eyes before the other turned and began to storm off. What had he said that was so wrong? 

“Saru, wait!” he called after his friend, jogging to catch up. He darted forward and grabbed Saru’s wrist, stopping the other in his tracks. “Saru, what did I say?” he asked. 

“Let go of me,” Saru mumbled. 

“Not until you tell me what I said wrong.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Saru abruptly turned to face Yata again, circling his wrist sharply to dislodge Yata’s grip on him. He glared, as if daring Yata to fess up to whatever he’d done. 

“No, it’s not!” Yata replied, enunciating each word carefully. “I wouldn’t be asking if it were! All I said was that this wasn’t something I could talk to you about.” 

“Well why is that?” Saru snapped. “We’re supposed to be friends again, so why is it that when you have something important to talk about, you end up going to my captain rather than just asking me?” 

“Because it was about you, dammit!” Yata shouted, not caring if the whole street heard. Okay, maybe he did care a little bit, because as he stood there, breathing heavily from anger and glaring back at Saru, he felt the stares of the nearby people and quelled a bit. But at least Saru looked more puzzled than angry now. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Saru asked after a long enough moment had passed that people seemed to be losing interest. 

“I wanted to ask about you,” Yata reluctantly explained. “I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. Y’know, getting enough to eat and actually sleeping and stuff. And I thought if I asked you, you’d just click your tongue and tell me you were fine and to stop nagging, and so I wanted to talk about it with someone else, and try and figure out if there was any way I could help. Like maybe I could start cooking for you to make sure you’re getting a balanced diet, or, I dunno… You never value yourself as much as you should, and so I thought maybe I could try and do that for you. Since- since you’re really important to me.” 

“Okay, seriously, Misaki. You’re not making any sense. Why would you ever go that far? It’s not like-” 

“Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?” Yata asked angrily, the heat of a blush already creeping up his face. “I _like_ you, dammit. Every time people talk about dating and kissing and stuff like that, I always think of you. Always. Even when we hated each other. And maybe you don’t-” 

Yata got no farther, as Saru suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, and it was a little hard to speak with his face pressed to Saru’s shoulder. 

“About bloody time,” Saru murmured in his ear. “I was always waiting for you to say something, dammit.” 

Yata shifted enough that he could reply. 

“Yeah well maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much time acting like an ass then, asshole.” 

Of course Saru would laugh at that. At least his hug was warm. 

* * *

Munakata watched when Yata scurried away to the bathroom, feeling just the slightest bit ashamed. Rotten personality or not, he did have morals. Still, he had a feeling this would get certain appealing results in the end, even if it did cost him a bit. 

“What the hell was that?” Fushimi slamming a fist into the table. 

“A kiss,” Munakata said, calmly giving the literal answer to the question rather. “Would you like one?” 

“Not from _you_ ,” Fushimi spat. He was, quite predictably, furious. “How dare you do that to him, you-” 

Suoh silenced Fushimi by sticking an arm out across Fushimi’s chest. Fushimi scowled down at it, as if wishing to glare it into oblivion, but silenced himself as Suoh spoke up. 

“Munakata,” he said, “there’s only so much of yer playing with people that I can tolerate y’know.” 

The room began to heat up as the red king released just the slightest bit of aura, and Fushimi flinched away from the arm that was still in front of him. 

“Oi, go check on Yata-chan,” Suoh ordered Fushimi. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue. 

“I was going to do that without you telling me,” Fushimi muttered, grabbing his jacket and leaving the booth to follow after Yata. 

Munakata took off his glasses and began to clean them, waiting for Suoh to say his piece. 

“The hell are you playing at here, Munakata?” Suoh growled. 

“Well initially I just meant to tease your clansman a bit,” Munakata admitted. “I had no intention of it being a real date, I assure you. You’re the one who butted in, Suoh.” He smiled benignly and replaced his glasses. 

“But you’re the one who coulda explained then and didn’t.” 

The waitress brought over their meals and began laying them on the table, some sense of self-preservation kicking in to keep her from commenting on the disappearance of the other two members of their party. 

“If you would be so kinda as to bring two take-out boxes, that would be much appreciated,” Munakata told her, fixing her with a smile. “Our companions had something urgent come up.” The waitress nodded and scurried away, and he turned back to Suoh. “Perhaps I could have explained when you called to propose a double date, but I thought it was a rather novel way of approaching the problem those two keep having, where despite their rekindled bond, they have yet to make any progress. And I must admit, it was entertaining keeping you in the dark.” 

“You really do have a rotten personality,” Suoh drawled. 

“And yet you find it attractive, so what does that say about you?” Munakata replied. Suoh snorted rather than respond. 

A hand slapped money down on the table, and the two men looked up to see Fushimi hauling Yata away while the other still struggled to retrieve his own wallet. 

“Yes, I think this will be enough,” Munakata said, smiling as the two younger men left the diner. “That should be enough of a push for them to finally clear the air between them.” 

“That’s all well and good, but you owe me one,” Suoh said. “‘S not nice to go kissing someone else when we both know we like each other.” 

“How about we make this a proper single date and call it even?” Munakata asked. 

“Let me call you my boyfriend from now on and we’re good,” Suoh replied, idly grabbing his burger one-handed and leaning back as he took a bite. It was a miracle he didn’t drip ketchup or other condiments all over himself. 

“Alright, boyfriend,” Munakata agreed. “We’re good.”


End file.
